Test of Time
by Brazen Hussy
Summary: Complete. 20yrs after the events of the first film, and Beni's back with a vengeance and the powers of the Hom Dai! Imhotep and the O'Connells must work together to stop him, but Imhotep is distracted by the familiar face of Rick and Evie's daughter...
1. Chapter 1

Aylisha O'Connell wandered silently through the darkness of the British Museum. She had often spent her nights here, sleeping on the couch in her office. Since her recent promotion to Head of the Egyptology Department, she had liked to come and look at the artefacts without being surrounded by the bustling crowds. The ancient relics imprisoned in the glass cases were a reflection of her life. They no longer felt the scorching touch of the sun, or the rough caress of the desert wind. Also, though she could not truly explain it to herself; since she had left her beloved Egypt she felt most at home here, amongst the remnants of a dead culture.

Pausing before an exquisite relief on the wall, she allowed her mind to wander back. She had lived in Egypt till the age of sixteen, raised among the sands and ruins as her parents travelled from one dig to the next. Her father had led expeditions to various sites, while her mother had earned herself a great reputation in Egypt as a scholar. Uncle Jonathan had travelled straight back to England after Hamunaptra, where he proceeded to earn himself a vastly different kind of reputation. Luckily he had met Aunt Liz, who managed to curb some of his wilder excesses.

Her parents had then decided it would benefit her to move back to England rather than remain in the desert. She had known she would have to go, but it was a terrific wrench. For the first month her parents had feared she was going into a decline. Luckily her strength of mind had pulled her through.

She had eventually adjusted, though it was never her true home. Her bones ached for Egypt. She was content in England, and that was as far as it went. She had studied Egyptology at Bembridge, and with her mother's teaching behind her had graduated top of her class. She could read and speak Ancient Egyptian as well as, if not better than her own mother, which was great source of pride to Evie. With credentials such as these she had quickly found work in the British Museum, where she had risen quickly up the ranks. In the last six months she had been promoted to her current position.

As she came out of her reverie, she felt the chill around her; she rubbed her upper arms and continued through the building. That was another problem: the weather. She never felt completely warm here. It was also cloudy for most of the year. She missed the dry desert air and the endless expanses of sky filled with shimmering stars. You could barely see the stars in the harsh artificial light of London. Only in her dreams could she see them, glittering in a velvety blackness which seem almost to press down upon her. If indeed they were her dreams…

She stopped herself mid-thought. Well, who else's dreams would they be she asked herself sarcastically? It was a silly idea, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder. Her nights were filled with visions of an Egypt at its peak. She heard the hubbub of street markets and the cries of the vendors; smells from temples filled with fragrant sacrifices and offerings; the ornate structure of the palace…she always felt a pang when she thought of the palace, thought she had no real memory of anything that happened there.

Then there was the man…

She paused again. She had never understood how he had appeared in her mind. Perhaps she had seen him somewhere back in Egypt, but she didn't think so. He was tall; well over six-feet in height, while smooth tanned skin covered a muscular frame. He wore the robes and pendant of a priest, which only served to emphasise the broad hairless chest and shoulders. The dream always moved in to focus on his face. It wore a warm smile as though he was amused, but his eyes…

His eyes were dark, and appeared to pin down her very soul. They seemed to burn with some inner light, and in her dream she felt herself warm again in the heat of his gaze. She always awoke from the dream covered with perspiration, while the covers would be very tousled. As a very proper young woman of twenty-three, with no experience of men, she had always regretted not being able to remember what happened next.

There had been times when she had associated him with Imhotep, the cursed priest her parents had battled all those years ago. When she had first heard the name, it seemed to fit the man of her dream. As a child, she had indeed feared Imhotep, but as time went on, this changed and was largely replaced by respect and pity for him. His single-minded devotion to one woman, and his dedication to the mission to resurrect her, inspired Aylisha with respect, although his methods did not (she would never forget the look of terror on her mother's face as she described her little adventure with the altar). The three thousand years of tortured suffering he had endured could not help but inspire her pity. He had risked all for a chance at a perfect love, and fate had punished such aspirations with unbridled cruelty.

She shook her head to clear it, the black of her hair picking up blue highlights from the moonlight streaming through the window. The exotic tints of her skin went unseen in the shadows, while her dark and expressive almond eyes picked a path through the cluttered exhibits. She made her way back to her office; and stretching her long lithe frame out on the couch, dreamt of home.


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, Henry Winstanly, great Egyptologist (in his opinion- in everyone else's he was slightly less good) entered the newly excavated tunnel. As he got further along the narrow tunnel the torch guttered, and gradually took on a ghastly blue tint as the air became bad. His naturally pallid face was accentuated to ghoulish extent, making him seem positively cadaverous as he made his way forward, followed by a ramshackle band of excavators and diggers.

Henry always insisted on going first, saying that he was the only one capable of spotting any traps or other lethal deterrents with might pose a threat. The unspoken thought which always went with this little speech was that should he find anything of value no-one was going to pose a threat to him getting it, lest he be forced to use a lethal deterrent of his own.

His gift in life had never so much been the art of discovery, as the ability to find treasure. The museum tolerated his keeping a few choice pieces for himself so long as the majority went to them. It was often joked that Henry could smell the gold fillings of a mummy at a hundred yards.

On rare occasions this joke was accompanied by a smile.

Henry stopped suddenly. The torch he carried was now rather dim, thus causing the diggers a little way behind him to pile into each other comically. As they sorted themselves out and caught up, the reason for this became rapidly apparent. The tunnel had ended in an abrupt wall of solid rock, as though in a tradition upheld by British builders to this day, the diggers had downed tools for a five-minute tea break and never returned.

"Nothing. There's not even any hieroglyphics on the wall!" said the disgusted voice of a fellow but not necessarily esteemed colleague.

"What do you expect?" said Henry, trying to keep his own frustration out of his voice and failing miserably. "This is a _secret_ tunnel for the Pharaoh's use in an emergency. Did you expect a note saying 'Left the key under the mat'?" The others listened in uncomfortable silence as his voice got louder and shriller. "What do you think then? Under the broken flowerpot perhaps? _No_?" He was really shouting now. "How about on top of the door frame?" His hand shot out to exaggeratedly feel along a ledge near the top of the wall.

Unfortunately in his rage he misjudged the distance, and it was as much to his surprise as anyone else's when his hand _passed straight through the wall_!

There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then realisation clicked in. "Plaster…its _bloody_ plaster!" he said shocked. "It's a false wall!" Other hands soon joined his, and the wall was down in less than a minute.

They gathered round the entrance, cautiously peering into vast gloom before them. Suddenly, the dying torch flared back into life with the addition of fresh air, and the nearer parts of the room were illuminated.

Among the excited gasps, Henry's eyes narrowed to glittering slits as gold winked and beckoned to him in the glimmering light. "Gentlemen," he said, using the term loosely, "allow me to welcome you to Hamunaptra: City of the Dead".


	3. Chapter 3

A chink of sunlight shining into her eyes woke Aylisha, though after her years in the desert she wouldn't have dignified it with the name sunlight. She rolled over on the plush couch into a sitting position. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and strolled to the window. She saw that London had woken up long before her and was going about the business of the day.

Business of the day… something stirred at the back of her find, and finding itself the centre of attention, lumbered muzzilly into focus. Damn! She had a meeting with Mr. Charters in half an hour. She was barely going to have time to wash and change…

She paused outside the Chief Curator's office to catch her breath. She had changed into a cotton shirt and skirt, which while not being strictly revealing showed off the slender lines of her figure wonderfully. She patted down her hair and knocked.

"Come," said a voice from inside. She entered to see the chubby figure of Mr. Willoughby Charters seated behind his massive oak desk. He was a little under five and a half foot in height, so even Aylisha had a few inches on him in height, and behind that desk he looked positive dwarfish. However, his small size hid a large heart and generous nature. Today his benign grey eyes twinkled happily at her, and his usually ruddy complexion (a legacy of drink rather fresh air – "Eat well, exercise often, die anyway" was his opinion) was flushed to a deeper shade of crimson with excitement.

"Sit down, sit down," he babbled as he fished out a slip of paper from a drawer on his desk. As she seated herself he got up and began to pace the room. "I'll be honest with you, Miss O'Connell, I can't for the life of me remember why I called this meeting, _but_ it doesn't matter anyway," he continued as he saw she was about to remind him, "because something _far_ more important has come up." Her curiosity was piqued.

"What is it?" she asked avidly.

"A bloody miracle!" he said, answering her without answering her question. Mr. Charters loved doing that; he prided himself on the fact that he was almost as good as some politicians.

She paused for a moment. "Is it the Cairo dig?"

Get out of that one, she thought.

"Cairo? Ha! Cairo is _nothing_ to this." he chuckled.

Damn, she thought.

"Well, tell me then!" she said frustrated.

With his flair for the dramatic, Mr. Charters thrust the telegraph slip into her hand. "Read that," he said smugly. "I received it from Henry only this morning." Aylisha straightened out the crumple note and read.

CHARTERS. HAVE FOUND HAMUNAPTRA. AT PORT NOW.

WILL RETURN IN TWO DAYS WITH FINDS. MINE'S A PINT.

WINSTANLY.

As she finished reading, she could barely cope with the multitude of thoughts that fought for precedence in her mind.

One of the losers was the bitter feeling that it was typical of Henry to come back early and spoil her fun. He had ruthlessly pursued her since she had arrived there. His unsubtle innuendoes and 'accidental' caresses had repulsed and disgusted her; inspiring a hatred for him that she had not known she was capable of. It was struggle for her not to do him grievous harm. It was particularly tempting when he had brushed hard against her near a wall arrangement of swords. She had tried to joke to herself that she couldn't decide which one to use first, but she knew she had been approaching breaking point when by chance he had at last been ordered onto a dig. She hadn't wanted to discover how far from the surface that darker side to her nature was. She knew there was a streak of cold steel in her, and each time he touched her it screamed to be unleashed on him.

However, this thought was thrust aside by the more important thought; he had discovered Hamunaptra! If the stories her parents told were true (a doubt she barely entertained recalling the terrified conviction in their eyes) then they could all be in deep trouble.

"You see now why I'm so flustered," said Mr. Charters, breaking in on her thoughts. "Think of the possibilities!" he added, without realising Aylisha was trying desperately not to.

"I've got a very good feeling about this!" he concluded, beaming at her.

That's funny thought Aylisha, because I've got a very _bad_ feeling about this…


	4. Chapter 4

In retrospect it was a good thing that Rick had put the telephone in the living room rather than the hallway. It meant that when Evie fainted, her head hit a deep pile rug rather than the more unforgiving marble flagstones in the hall. However, even the pain caused by this relatively soft landing was sufficient to snap her back to consciousness.

"Are you sure?" she faltered, barely daring to trust he own voice. "I mean, it's _definitely_ Hamunaptra? He hasn't made a mistake?"

"I'm afraid not. But he'll be here the day after tomorrow. Even if he hasn't found anything…." she paused, searching for the right word, "…relevant, then it's better to have some sort of plan in advance."

"I agree. I'll get your father and we'll be at your office in an hour."

Evie replaced the telephone and picked herself up off the floor. She brushed down her clothes and went to check herself in the mirror. Her head hurt a little but she didn't think it would bruise. She looked at herself in the mirror. She hadn't lasted too badly. Her eyes held all their old enthusiasm for life, and age had merely seen fit to grey her hair slightly at the temples, and emphasise the laughter lines at her eyes.

"Not bad," she murmured to herself, "but I'm still too old for this."

Still, in a way she felt better about it this time. After all, Imhotep was hardly going to resurrect Anck-su-namun in the body of an old wrinkly. No matter how much they had loved each other, _no_ woman could forgive that. The _worst_ that could happen was that they would all be brutally slaughtered.

She was about to content herself with that thought when she thought of Aylisha. Would it be her turn to play human sacrifice for a day? She gave her reflection a wry smile. Like mother, like daughter. Well, Imhotep could try to make Aylisha his if he dared, but immortal or not, all men are wise enough to fear the wrath of the mother-in-law.

Anyway, she told herself, she couldn't do anything till she stopped ogling herself in the mirror and found Rick. This Henry might have found nothing. Even if he had, Imhotep was dead. She had seen him sink into the Well of Souls herself. Surely being killed twice was enough for most people?

She continued along that line of thought as she slung on her coat. Could he have come back? He was living, or rather undead proof that death was only the beginning for some. She too could not help but pity the priest, thinking of his last mortal moments. Anck-su-namun must have been an extraordinary woman for Imhotep to risk the Hom-Dai for her.

This brought her to another, much older path of thought, which was well trodden no matter how often she had tried to dismiss it. It led to Aylisha. In Aylisha, Evelyn's Egyptian heritage seemed to have been given full reign. She seemed to have an intuitive grasp of all things Ancient Egyptian. Had that been all Evie would have merely been proud, but there was something… more, which nagged at the back of her mind. As the years had gone by the doubt had grown in the recesses of her brain, going so far as to develop a name she had once heard on the lips of an ancient priest.

When Aylisha had been younger she had been told the stories of her parents adventure in Hamunaptra (with certain omissions, obviously), and yet even at that age she seemed to know more than her parents. One such incident that stuck in her mind came from when Aylisha was eight. Her mother had been interrupted mid-story, and had lost her place. Her daughter had reminded her that 'Imhotep was taking you to Hamunaptra, his bald head glinting in the sun'. Now Evie knew for a fact that she had never described the priest physically in great detail: certainly not his shaven head. She had mentioned his haunting dark eyes, taken from that poor American (all the better to see you with – though they clearly hadn't worked though since he had persisted in calling her Anck-su-namun). She had also definitely mentioned his powerful frame leading to muscular arms (all the better to sacrifice you and choke the life out of Jonathan with).

The thought of Jonathan brought her back to reality with a bump, as she remembered that she had better find her husband was, in order to avoid Jonathan finding himself in that all too familiar situation again. She knew where her husband would be, so she left the house and headed straight for Jonathan's Bar.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan had been propping up bars from an early age, though it was only in the last ten years or so he had been doing it from the other side of the counter. Since he had met and married Liz he had settled down somewhat and become a doting husband, now soon to be father as well. Liz forgave his little faults, and a few bigger ones, simply because he wouldn't be Jonathan without them. Jonathan just seemed to bring out her maternal instinct.

Today Jonathan was serving the lunchtime rush, which consisted of his brother-in-law. Rick always came in for a quick drink, in the touching belief that Evie didn't know. Evie was not heartless enough to deny him his little fantasy. She found his misplaced belief in her naiveté quite endearing.

Also, Jonathan had never charged him for a drink; well, except for that embarrassing first time…

A few choice words from Rick had conveyed to Jonathan that in Rick's opinion, anyone who had saved your life by flicking a live scarab out of your shoulder deserved a few free drinks. Indeed, it had been his _choice_ of words that had ensured this had become a tradition religiously observed by Jonathan.

Today however, this happy scene was to be shattered. Rick and Jonathan both looked up as the door was flung back on its hinges, and the small figure of Evie made an entrance even a Med-Jai would have been proud of.

"Evie!" exclaimed both men simultaneously. Had it not been for years of practice Jonathan might have lost his grip on the bottle he was holding.

"Uh, hi honey," continued Rick, "I'd sure like to think this is something we can talk about…"

"Believe me, we will, but not right now. We have more important things to discuss than your illicit drinking…" she paused as she saw Jonathan trying to duck into a storeroom, "…_with_ Jonathan." She concluded. Sheepishly Jonathan slunk back to them.

"I've just had a call from Aylisha. Someone has found Hamunaptra, and they're bringing the finds back to the museum in two days!"

The end of this sentence was fittingly punctuated by the sound of smashing glass. They looked over the bar. The mention of Hamunaptra had been sufficient not only to loose Jonathan his grasp on the bottle, but consciousness as well. Evie darted round the bar to help him up, while Rick watched her wide eyed, barely able to take it in.

"But…you're sure? It's not…"

"Aylisha's pretty sure," interrupted his wife as she helped Jonathan to his feet, swiftly moving a whisky bottle out of the way before he tried to help himself to that as well. "I said we'd meet her at her office."

Rick only had time to nod agreement before Liz came out of one of the back rooms.

Liz was slightly taller than Evie, with blonde hair and permanently good-humoured blue eyes. She was about ten years younger than Jonathan, but infinitely more mature. Her pregnancy had still come as a pleasant surprise, however. After all, Jonathan was only a few years this side of fifty, and his choice of beverage surely couldn't have helped. However, his wife was of the opinion that years of exposure to alcohol had preserved him, like a giant pickle.

As Jonathan was her brother, Evie didn't like to think about why she had chosen _this _particular analogy.

She was smiling, but this soon stopped when she saw their solemn faces. Then she noticed her beloved husband leaning dazed on the bar. "Jonathan!" she exclaimed, waddling over him as fast as her pregnant bulk would allow. She was nearly nine months gone now. "Are you alright sweetheart?" she said, threading a supportive arm around his waist.

"Fine, old mum, fine", he said a little vaguely. "I think I need a drink…" he paused as he saw the look on his sisters face and quickly added "…of water. Mmm, lovely water." he improvised weakly.

Liz wandered off to get him one, shooting curious glances at Rick and Evie. When she had left they shared a look. They had been married long enough to know pretty much what the other was thinking. This could often be uncannily accurate in the vicinity of the bedroom. However, right now that was furthest from their minds.

Rick nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to Jonathan. His voice was low so Liz wouldn't hear.

(Jonathan had never enlightened her with tales of Hamunaptra. This was partly because he hadn't wanted to scare her, and partly because he had told her the scar on his shoulder was due to an encounter with a madman twice his size, rather than a two inch long insect.)

"Jonathan, we think you should stay here," said Rick.

"To look after Liz," added Evie, to spare his blushes.

Jonathan seized on the lifeline gratefully.

"Yes, that's right. Must protect the little woman." When the life in question was his he caught on quickly.

Liz returned with the water, causing them to wonder if 'little' was really the appropriate word for someone in her situation. 'Huge', 'enormous', or, if one was feeling particularly malicious ' Thar she blows, cap'n!' all sprang more readily to mind.

"We should go now," said Evie to her husband.

"Uh, yeah, sure," replied Rick. "Be seeing you." He couldn't completely conceal the uncertainty he felt about this in his voice.

Within twenty minutes they were at the door of his daughter's office.


	6. Chapter 6

Aylisha opened the door to let her parents in. She made some tea while her parents took off their coats and seated themselves. Rick spoke first. "You're mother told me some of what you said. So who's this Henry? Is he likely to have found anything important?"

She told them about Henry. _Everything_ about Henry.

Her father's face darkened to a scowl. "If we survive I'm gonna make damn sure he doesn't."

"Yes, but what are we going to do about the situation in hand?" said Aylisha, trying to circumvent her father's wrath.

Her father rapidly switched the focus of his wrath from Henry to Imhotep.

"Do? We're gonna keep running that bastard through until he stays dead!" Her father eyes were ablaze with a fury that could only be kindled by the sight of a loved one in danger.

Holding her husband's hand, Evie tried to calm him by saying, "In theory we don't know that he can be resurrected. His immortal soul appeared to be taken by that…thing in the chariot."

Rick persisted. "But what if? I mean, you didn't really get a chance to study that book in depth, did you?"

His wife nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to hope that if Henry does manage to find the Book of the Dead he finds the Book of Amun-Ra as well. All that gold on it should insure that," she added, thinking of what her daughter had told her. Apart from his offensive attentions to her daughter, if there was something she hated it was plundering. Knowledge lost out to it on so many occasions.

Rick interrupted her thoughts with one of his own. "Hey! What about Ardeth and the Med-Jai? Surely they should have stopped Henry? Anyway, they'd help us now for sure."

"Well dear, remember Ardeth couldn't come to Aylisha's eighteenth because he'd had another recent addition of his own; and he decided to retire as leader of the Med-Jai after that. Even if he hadn't, Henry will return the day after tomorrow. We couldn't even contact them in kind of time, let alone expect them to travel here."

"That still doesn't explain how Henry got past the Med-Jai. Their standards must be slipping." He was annoyed that his brilliant idea had fallen flat on its face.

"From what I understand from Mr. Charters, Henry believed he had discovered evidence of a secret tunnel for the pharaohs' private use. If the tunnel entrance was sufficiently far from the remains of Hamunaptra…"

"…Then they might not think it was anything to worry about!" Finished her mother. Suddenly she had a thought. "Shouldn't they have told you about him digging up the place?"

Her daughter nodded with trace of annoyance. "Yes, but Henry's so good at finding artefacts they tend to let him go his own road. He was technically working on a different dig a few miles away, but did some exploring of his own."

"I guess that explains it," said Rick, "still, I wouldn't have minded having a few of them with us. They sure had a way with a sword." His wife agreed, while silently thinking that to her mind that way tended a little too often to lead _through_ people.

"So let's review," said Aylisha. We're not sure if he's dead, and if he is we're not sure if he can't be resurrected, and if he is were not sure if we've got the Book of Amun-Ra to stop him. Does that sound fair?

"No," said her mother wryly, "but it does some up our situation rather well."

"Come on," said Rick, " we whipped his sorry as…" he caught his wife's eye, "…self once before, and we'll do it again."

"I think the best thing is for you to wait until you hear from me," said Aylisha. "We can't do anything until Henry gets here and we know the exact situation."


	7. Chapter 7

It was typical of Henry to arrive a day early. Aylisha watched from a doorway as subordinates scurried around him. The storage room was in complete disorder, with packing crates piled up where there was no space on the floor. Henry was surveying his handiwork when he caught sight of her.

"Ah, my dear Aylisha…" he purred as he made his way towards her. Had her mind not been concerned with what was in the crates she might have found time to wonder how two months in the desert could fail so miserably to give anyone a tan.

She forced herself to smile over gritted teeth as he took her hand and kissed it in an exaggerated manner. "I come bearing gifts" he continued, as he watched the porters carefully carrying further crates into the already full room. Aylisha mastered the impulse to wipe her hand on her dress and walked over to study some of the artefacts.

She couldn't hide her fascination. Finely wrought gold statuettes and furniture were unwrapped before her admiring eyes. They filled the room, decorating the dull wooden crates. Aylisha fancifully imagined she could smell the clean air of the desert coming out from the freshly opened crates.

Then something glinting at the corner of eye claimed her attention. It was a skilfully tooled short-sword. Its blade was undimmed by age, and emerged from an elegantly crafted handle of gold and lapis lazuli. Somehow she couldn't prevent a shiver going down her spine.

Henry had walked up behind her, and following her gaze saw what had attracted it. "Exquisite, isn't it?" he said, casually picking it up and twisting it in the air to watch the light dance on the blade. "Efficient too!" he added, as he ran a finger along the edge of the blade and quickly regretted the action. "Makes you wonder whether it got put to any use, eh?"

"I'd rather not, thank you." She replied, quickly turning to less deadly points of interest. As Henry replaced the blade, he was distracted by her sharp intake of breath. He turned to see her pointing towards a distant wall.

"What's _that_?" she gasped.

"Dearie dearie me," he tutted, "that is what we Egyptologists call a sarcophagus. Someone hasn't been doing her homework while I was away. Perhaps some after hours tuition…"

His barbed comments fell on deaf ears, however, as Aylisha was already weaving her way around the crates towards it.

As she approached the sarcophagus she saw the scratched engravings and inscriptions, and the lock upon it, and knew instantly whom it had belonged to. "Have you opened it?" she demanded of a surprised Henry.

"Yes, but there was nothing inside."

Her tense body had almost relaxed when he continued "But we soon fixed that."

"_What?_" Her voice was shrill to her ears, and from the wincing expression on Henry's face, to his as well.

"Calm yourself, my dear," he said, running a suggestive finger down the top of her arm. "You can't give the public a sarcophagus with nothing in. It just won't interest them." He lent closer to whisper in her ear. " Personally I think some sort of tomb robbers went a bit wild in the place. There were bits of corpses everywhere. However we found two whole ones in a pond and near the exit, which suited out purposes admirably. So we took those and hey presto, Bob's you pharaoh, as it were." He chuckled devilishly.

"You…just…" she stuttered, barely able to form words through her rage. How dare he treat people like that, whether dead or alive? He was the most arrogant, immoral and callous bastard she had ever met.

"Now, now," he hissed, drawing her into a corner, "we wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?" His grip on her arm tightened suddenly, causing her to gasp. "Now, we both know that I can do this with your neck instead should this get out." He gave her arm an extra hard squeeze for good measure then released her. She spun away, clasping her bruised flesh. He laughed at the rage on her face. "Don't be so unsophisticated my sweet. I can guarantee that if I go I'll take you with me. I could probably find work again, but you…a woman cast adrift in an unfeeling world. No protection, no security. Who knows the _depths_ you could sink to?" His eyes twinkled mockingly at her.

She didn't realise what she was doing till she heard the satisfying crack of flesh on flesh. Clearly neither did Henry, for her slap had carried the full weight of her arm behind it, and his eyes were now watering rather than twinkling. She fled the room, ignoring the shocked stares of the porters, and the admiring stares of anyone who knew Henry.

When she reached her office she locked herself in, and flung herself down on the couch. She refused to cry; the mixture of pride and white-hot rage in her forbade it. Instead through tremendous effort of will she forced herself to think calmly about the questions this little interlude had raised. She rubbed her arm in an absent minded fashion as she descended into thought.

According to her parents, Imhotep's body had sunk into the Well of Souls. Was it possible it had floated back up? Henry had said one came from a pool. What of the other body? Where and who was it? Henry must have found a second sarcophagus, but whom had he found to fill that awkward vacancy? From her fathers descriptions of the fights with priests and guards it didn't sound like there would be enough left of them for a whole body. As for Anck-su-namun, she was similarly incapacitated. So could it be?

The answer came to her in a flash, snapping her eyes open with realisation.

"Beni!"

It made sense, but Aylisha couldn't be sure. She decided she would check later tonight. She settled down on the couch and fell into a troubled sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Aylisha picked her way through the darkness. The night was cloudy, so the light that came through the huge arched windows was very dim. She was glad she had the forethought to bring a lamp. She left it off for now, as she knew her way well enough. She would need it when she came storage room however, not only to pick her way through the disarray, but to investigate the sarcophagi.

When she finally reached the storeroom she turned on the lamp and picked her way towards the large stone sarcophagus. Clearly her little fracas with Henry had not disrupted work too much, as the porters had managed to fit a sliding mechanism to the lid for display purposes. Her slight frame would therefore not be a problem. She assumed that it hadn't been locked when they found it, since she could see no recently inflicted damage upon it. Aylisha also assumed that her parents had been a little preoccupied with other things such as flesh-eating scarabs and sword-wielding mummies to think of resealing the sarcophagus. She put the lamp on a nearby case and pushed back the lid.

The smell was the first thing to hit her. It made her want to retch. She put her hand over her face and forced herself to look. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but apparently that was the case with Beni even before he died. The small decayed corpse lay at the bottom, curled up almost defensively. Aylisha wondered how Henry had planned to get away with this. Even the most uneducated person now knew the Ancient Egyptians mummified their dead; the Karloff film had done that much.

She tried to focus her mind on the subject in hand. She attempted to look at the body dispassionately. The scarabs had done their work well; there was no real way of identifying the remains as Beni. However…she looked down again. The body was far too small to have been intended for this sarcophagus. Imhotep had been a tall, muscular man. Even the pathetic remnants left to her here told her they had belonged to a much smaller man. Aylisha was convinced; this was all that remained of her father's 'buddy' Beni.

She pulled the lid back onto the base, as much to stop the smell as a sense of respect for the dead. She turned and looked about the room for the second sarcophagus. She found it nearby in a dark corner, which was why she hadn't seen it before. It was more ornate but slightly smaller than it's stone counterpart. It was coffin for a pharaoh. She translated the inscription on the top mentally. She knew from her mother the dangers of unknown verbal translations.

The cartouche told her it had been destined for Seti! She knew Imhotep had killed him, so why wasn't Seti its present resident? She read the hieroglyphics around it. It told how Seti would be guided to the underworld by his high priest Imhotep.

Well, she thought, in a way that's true. After all, Imhotep did help him over that first major hurdle.

Aylisha also thought that if she had been murdered, she would definitely not want the name of her murderer decorating her final resting-place. The Med-Jai must have replaced this sarcophagus with one that was slightly more…tasteful.

She stooped down and pushed off the lid. It was lighter than the stone, but no sliding mechanism aided her this time, impeding her progress. After a few moments however she had moved it sufficiently to get a good look at its occupant.

This was much more likely to be Imhotep. The corpse was almost too big for the sarcophagus, and even in its decayed state the remnants of once powerful muscles still clung to the large frame of the skeleton.

"Well, he won't cause any trouble if he stays in that condition," she said under her breath, heaving the lid back into position.

A voice in her head smugly suggested that the problem with Imhotep was that he so seldom did.

Now, to see if Henry had found the books… She knew she hadn't seen them in the inventory of his finds. If he _had _found them, then the only other place they could be was in his office…

When she entered his office, she saw exactly where the books would be. Henry had large cabinet behind his desk. It was the only thing in the room big enough to contain them. She was about to step forward when he heard footsteps from the corridor. Luckily she had closed the door behind her in case the night watchman wandered this way.

She waited as the footsteps came nearer. It would be old Jones on tonight. The old man was deaf as anything and not the most dedicated of the museum staff. She knew from her own night-time prowls that he spent most of his time asleep in the chair by the front door. He was grumpy, and as like to swear you as say hello, but she hadn't the heart to report him. He was nearly eighty.

Unfortunately it was not the night watchman who opened the door suddenly, but Henry.

Aylisha had just enough time to duck into the darkness behind the door. She watched as Henry headed straight for the cabinet and unlocked it. She felt her heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear as he removed the Book of the Dead from its resting-place. She saw a flash of gold reflecting in the polished doors of the cabinet as he closed and locked them. Aylisha was now certain he had the Book of Amun-Ra as well. Henry turned, and left the room, still looking down at the book. He closed the door behind him.

She stood still for a moment, listening to his footsteps progress down the corridor, until she was certain he would not turn back. Then, slowly easing the door open, Aylisha silently padded after him.


	9. Chapter 9

She followed him, and was surprised to find him making his way to the storage room. What was he going to do in here? Then she realised that this was the furthest room from Jones. If Henry were going to be up to something, like resurrecting a priest for example, then he wouldn't want any witnesses.

Like her, for instance.

Aylisha made sure she kept out of sight, crouching behind the packing crates, as he crossed the room towards the sarcophagi.

Henry placed a small lamp from his pocket on a crate near the stone sarcophagus, and opened the book. She listened hardly breathing as began muttering to himself. "Yes, this is it…the stories are true…this will make me all powerful…an immortal. I shall be a god on Earth!" She was horrified when she heard him begin to speak the words her own mother had spoken all those years ago.

She understood now why he had taken the books. Translation had never been his gift; he had seen the spells of the book and interpreted them as a way of making himself immortal.

"Stop! Stop! _Do not read from the book_!"

She leapt from her hiding place just in time to see the lid of the _stone_ sarcophagus thrust aside, revealing the reanimated cadaver of Beni!

Henry was rooted to the floor with shock; the book slipped from his nerveless fingers. This drew Beni's attention to him, and he began to move towards him. Snatching up the jewelled sword from a nearby crate, he thrust it through Henry. The force of it lifted him off the floor before Beni pulled it out, allowing Henry to crumple in a bleeding heap. As Henry's life oozed from his body onto the floor, Beni began to regenerate.

He had not noticed Aylisha yet, so she retreated behind a nearby crate, and gaped open-mouthed as flesh and tissue flowed over the corpse, covering freshly regenerated muscles and organs. The part of her mind which was desperately clinging to reality told her that Henry must have read the spell of regeneration Imhotep had intended to use for Anck-su-namun; however, this time Henry had taken her mother's place as 'sacrifice du jour'.

Functioning almost purely on instinct now, she stretched out her arm and pulled the fallen book towards her. She had just got hold of it when Beni caught sight of her.

"Well, _hello_ there. Where were you hiding then?" he asked nastily in his nasal Hungarian accent. He then seemed to begin talking to himself. "Hmm, my powers may yet be weak, I should give myself time to test them first".

He began to walk towards her. Beni looking like he did, this would not normally be terrifying. However, _anyone_ one carrying a bloody sword tends to get scary pretty damn quickly. "I'm sorry, my dear, but you know the first rule of a perfect murder; no witnesses".

Her was nearly upon her when he was distracted by a noise from the entrance. It was Jones, the night watchman. He had heard her shouts to Henry, and had instantly run to see what was happening. Unfortunately, with eighty-year-old legs, words like 'instantly' and 'run' became relative terms. Thus he only had just arrived, wheezing a little.

Beni smiled.

"Don't go away now," he said, as he turned towards the unlucky figure of Jones.

Aylisha was almost in cardiac arrest by this point, and trying desperately to think rationally. If Beni were regenerated, he would have the same powers as Imhotep. It must be because he too was eaten alive by the scarabs. Aylisha knew she wouldn't have time to get the Book of Amun-Ra from Henry's office before Beni killed her. She had no place to run to. What could she do?

The idea came to her, as though something in the darkness at the back of her mind had whispered it to her. She almost brushed it aside as to risky. However, she was stuck between certain death and_ slightly less_ certain death, and she knew which option she was taking.


	10. Chapter 10

Still clutching the book, Aylisha got up and raced to the far side of the room. As she did so she heard Jones scream behind her. She was sorry for him, but glad she hadn't seen what Beni had done to him. She stopped running, positioning herself behind the ornate golden sarcophagus. She opened the book.

She saw Beni drop the limp but still gurgling body of Jones, and watched as he turned to face her. Their eyes met, and she knew he had guessed what was in her mind. She hurriedly began to read as he began to cover the distance between them.

Aylisha read not only the spell of resurrection but of regeneration, using Jones' life in the place of a sacrifice. She tried to justify it to herself; if Imhotep were not strong enough, more than her life would be threatened. She finished the spell and waited nervously, clutching the book protectively to her chest as Beni got closer.

As suddenly as before, the lid of the sarcophagus was thrust aside. This stopped Beni in his tracks, and both he and Aylisha watched fascinated as the most striking man she had ever seen emerged. It was Imhotep; and she was partly surprised to see he was indeed the man from her dreams.

It worried her slightly that this meant _another_ part of her was _not_.

His eyes flickered open, and arrogantly surveyed his surroundings. As their eyes met, his widened in shock mingled with delight.

"Anck-su-namun?" he said, reaching out and grasping her shoulders.

Desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze and touch were making her feel, Aylisha forced herself to think practically. He had clearly mistaken the first woman he saw for his beloved; it was becoming a habit with him.

"Imhotep," she said, remembering to speak in ancient Egyptian, "that man is immortal like you. He would kill me."

Aylisha had almost said us, but the idea of someone threatening his beloved was clearly quite enough to goad him into action. She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders, and saw his face darken in anger.

He let go and strode purposefully towards Beni.

"_You_!" he said, his voice a mere growl.

A lot of people felt like that once they'd known Beni.

Beni laughed at him. "You forget, I have same powers as yourself." However, what Beni had forgotten was that Imhotep was good deal bigger and faster than he was. He also had some experience of using his powers before. Before Beni knew what was happening he was sailing through the air into a pile of packing crates on the other side of the room.

He was unhurt, but furious. "When I have gained my full powers I will kill you last of all." His eyes glittered evilly at Aylisha as he added, "_After_ you've watched your lady friend suffer." Imhotep began to move menacingly towards him, but Beni was already running down the corridor to the exit.

Aylisha had watched all of this with a strange mixture of emotions. There had been fear for her life before she had regenerated Imhotep, not knowing if he would help her against Beni or come at her with something sharp; and then strangely she felt fear for him as she watched him fight Beni.

Far more worryingly, she had found herself constantly distracted by the way his muscles rippled and flexed under his tanned skin. He was _dead_ for heaven's sake; it was practically necrophilia!

She felt her heart begin to pound as returned as he returned to her. Aylisha stood still, reminding herself than this was the man who had tried to sacrifice her mother.

This meant she was a little unprepared when he pulled her to him and kissed her.

Her first reaction was shock, but then as waves of pure pleasure engulfed her she couldn't help but return his embrace. She had never been kissed like this. She had never been kissed period, but the flood of sensation was incredible; she felt all logical thought fleeing her mind. She returned his kiss with equal passion, each enjoying exploring the other, tasting and touching. She ran her fingers down the taught flesh of his back, never wanting it to end. It seemed too short a time when he pulled away.

"You are real!" he said, with slight disbelief in his voice. "I feared I was dreaming again". He smiled and she felt her heart flutter against his chest. He reached up and trailed a tender finger down along her cheek.

If her heart had been fluttering before, it was now banging hard against her ribs like an angry mob with pitchforks and flaming torches.

As his finger reached her chin he tilted up her head, studying her features as though imprinting them on his memory. "How is it you are here? Can it be the gods have forgiven us at last?"

She raised her eyes to his, and saw such passion mixed with tenderness there that she felt a pang down very soul that it was not truly for her. She knew she must shatter his illusion; it was cruel to let him continue in his mistaken belief only to find out later.

"Imhotep, I am not Anck-su-namun. I may look like her, but I am not she. _My_ name is Aylisha. Do you understand? Anck-su-namun has been dead these three-thousand years."

The look of disbelief and pain on his face cut her to the quick. Imhotep gazed open mouthed, shocked to the core. He _knew_ she was Anck-su-namun! She looked like her, spoke like her, kissed like her…

He seized her arms, desperate to wake up from this horrible nightmare. "It is not true! You _are _my Anck-su-namun! How is it you have forgotten?"

He was brought back to reality by her gasp of pain. He had not realised how hard he held her. He looked horrified at the ugly bruises on her arm.

"Forgive me!" he said ashamed; the last thing he would ever do was harm her.

"No, no, you did not do this. It was done earlier," said Aylisha, seeing the guilt on his face. He had unwittingly grasped her in the same place as Henry.

"Then who did this?" he said, running his hand gently down the marks, confusion turning to anger.

Aylisha felt her throat constrict inexplicably, and so looked pointedly at the heap that had been Henry, not trusting herself to speak. Imhotep followed her gaze and scowled.

"It is as well for him he is already dead," he said. The look on his face told her he knew a couple of things worse than death; hell, he'd experienced some of them himself.

He looked down at her. His face was emotionless, but even he could not hide the raw hurt in his eyes.

Aylisha's heart melted. She knew he had tried to sacrifice her mother and kill her father, but no one could have suffered as he did and come out it _totally_ stable. And in her opinion, any man who could feel as much love as she had seen in his eyes deserved a second chance.

She couldn't understand why she felt so protective towards him. He had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself (and anyone who got in his way); anyone who could go through what he had must be a strong man.

It was just that to her he seemed so damn _vulnerable_. She reached out a hand and touched his shoulder.

"Come on", she said, as she proceeded to take him by the hand, "I think we need to have a little chat."


	11. Chapter 11

To say Rick and Evelyn were a tiny bit worried as they hurried along the dark corridors towards their daughter's office would qualify, not as the understatement of the century, but of the millennium. She had seemed reluctant to explain on the telephone, but had basically told them that something had happened which would require their presence at the museum.

Immediately.

From prior experience they instantly assumed, and not entirely incorrectly, that this was a _bad_ thing.

This was why they were hurrying in the middle of the night along the hallways of the British Museum.

Rick opened her door without knocking, his wife following close behind him. This was why he almost squashed her when he unexpectedly and rather hurriedly reversed direction. Evie soon understood why when she saw whom Aylisha was sitting quite contentedly on the couch with.

Holding his wife protectively behind him, Rick spoke quietly to his daughter, nervous sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Uh, sweetheart, remember how we discussed this? Three thousand year old homicidal priests are bad, remember?" He never took his eyes from the priest. The priest kept his face studiously blank, but his eyes suggested that Rick's reaction amused him immensely.

Aylisha tried to calm him. "No dad, you have to understand, he's not the bad guy this time."

"Oh, _really_? My mistake then. Well, let's pull up a chair and talk about old times. How's the old human sacrifice business these days?"

Evie, who till this point had been firmly pinned behind her husband, finally managed to push past. "Aylisha, I want to know what's going on right now!"

This was her best bossy mother voice, though normally such tones are used in relation as to why the biscuit tin is empty, or a younger sibling had suddenly decided that mud is in this season, rather than why a beloved daughter is consorting with an undead priest.

Clearly it was a tone that had been used throughout the ages, as out of the corner of her eye Aylisha saw Imhotep was biting his lip trying not to grin, even though he didn't speak a word of English.

Only just keeping a straight face herself, realising it would annoy her parents, she said with a slightly tremulous voice "If you sit down calmly I will explain everything. And you needn't worry about Imhotep, he's not here to hurt anyone."

Rick refused and stood by his wife, who had seated herself on the other side of her daughter from Imhotep. She leaned forward and listened intently as Aylisha related the events of the night, omitting only the part where Imhotep had kissed her. She told herself that they would only worry them further, but she knew it was a slightly silly argument; they could handle murderous Hungarians with supernatural powers but _not_ the fact that their daughter had hormones?

When she had finished her story, her mother spoke first. "Err, what did you do with the bodies? They're not still…_lying_ there, are they?" She knew her daughter had hated Henry, but even as Aylisha's mother she couldn't justify leaving them. "And what about…" she tried to think of a nice way of putting it and failed, "…the mess?"

"Well, we had to replace the bodies of Imhotep and Beni in the sarcophagi, so Imhotep cast a spell which makes it look like their bodies are actually his and Beni's. As for the mess, I dealt with that."

"With another spell?" asked her mother, a little confused and surprised by her daughter's apparent proficiency.

"With a mop and bucket."

"Ah."

"So what's going to happen now?" asked Rick, ever the doer.

"Well, Imhotep has agreed to help us. He has most of the powers of the Hom-Dai curse, but it isn't possessed by the evil; that honour went to Beni because he was resurrected first."

"And what's he getting out of all this?" asked Rick, still understandably suspicious of Imhotep's intentions towards his family.

"I've had time to study the Book of the Dead, and have discovered a way to release him from the Hom-Dai curse. When this is over I will release his spirit from the curse."

"Why does he trust you? He could read it for himself."

Aylisha knew this was going to be awkward. "Well…it appears he thinks I am Anck-su-namun reincarnated in some way."

"I don't believe this!" exploded Rick, looking from his wife to his daughter in exasperation. "What _is_ it with him and Carnarvon women? Are you related to Anck-su-namun in some way or what?"

"I suppose it's possible," mused Evie, ignoring his outburst, "After all, my mother was Egyptian royalty. I may bear some resemblance to her, but Aylisha..." She looked at her daughter's classic Egyptian beauty. The nagging doubt at the back of her head went into overdrive.

"You'll be telling me you agree with him next," half joked Aylisha, trying to lighten the mood, but she stopped when she saw the look on her mothers face. "Oh please, you can't be serious," she shouted at Evie, "that's insane."

"Don't talk to you mother like that," snapped Rick, but soon changed his tone when he saw Imhotep's eyebrows lower. "Anyway, as insane as what? As seeing corpses regenerate? As resurrecting immortal priests? As fighting the undead? Because if that's you definition of insane then book me the Presidential Suite at the Funny Farm!"

The stress of the situation, and her fathers outbreak of temper, meant Aylisha was now well past the limits of angry, and over the border into furious. She shouted back at her father "I am _not _some murderous Ancient Egyptian …_hooker_!"

She watched as her parent jaws dropped simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, ashamed at her outburst, "but please try to see what you're telling me from my point of view."

Her father approached her, and put his arm around her shoulder. He knew whom she got her temper from.

At least, he _thought_ he did.

"Don't worry kid, we're all under a lot of pressure." He bent lower, thinking that even if the priest could understand English he wouldn't be able to hear. Rick forgot that supernatural hearing probably came as part of the supernatural powers package deal. "Anyway, your father's not to old to run him through again if he gets stroppy."

Aylisha returned his grin, but couldn't really say she liked the image.

Imhotep had been sitting quietly until this point; intuitively knowing that almost any movement of his would be interpreted by Rick as aggressive. However, he took advantage of the lull in emotions, and stood up to speak.

As he did so, he accidentally brushed Aylisha's hand with a careless finger. She nearly jumped with shock; feeling sparks of electricity running down her spine. Henry's caresses had been a lot more personal, but not one of them had given her a reaction like that. She clenched her fist and made herself concentrate on translating for her father.

"He says that time is growing short; Beni's powers will be getting stronger."

"Ha! My old buddy Beni," said Rick, sprawling in a chair, "how I will _enjoy_ meeting him again."

Aylisha thought that by the look on her father's face and the tone of his voice, Beni wouldn't feel the same.


	12. Chapter 12

Beni continued to run until he found a dark alleyway in which to catch his breath. Then he remembered he was dead, and didn't have any. In fact, now he came to think of it, he didn't even feel tired after a ten minute run.

He closed his eyes and attempted to reach out with his mind. He could vaguely sense that Imhotep was not in the area.

He could however, feel something else. It called to him from a distance. Beni smiled as he realised what it was, and reached out again with his mind. He sent out a single thought.

"COME."

In the darkness of a museum crate, something chittered in answer.

"If we're going to defeat Beni, we'll need to do the same as you did with…as you did before," said Aylisha, unsuccessfully picking her way through a verbal minefield. While she didn't think the priest was would get upset at the mention of his past defeat, it didn't seem very tactful.

"Then we'll need the Book of Amun-Ra", said her mother. "Did Henry find it?"

"I think so. It may be in his office. I'll go and get it now. You and dad stay here and lock the door. We don't know if Beni will be back."

As she moved to the door, Imhotep followed. She realised she had forgotten to explain what was going on. "I am getting the Book of Amun-Ra. It's only a few corridors away."

"Then I will go with you."

Her independent streak helped fight the sensations her traitorous body was sending her. "I don't need an escort. I'm perfectly capable at taking care of myself."

Imhotep smiled. There was no doubt in his mind she was Anck-su-namun. She was as strong willed and independent as when he had known her in his time; he had always admired that in her.

"I am sure you are, but I think it is best that I come." Seeing that she was about to protest again, he added, "I think your father prefers me to be slightly distant from your mother."

Aylisha could not deny this; her father's eyes rarely left the priest.

"Oh, alright." she said grudgingly, her ego deflated, and left the room. They began to walk along the darkened corridors. They had to pass through the staff door and across the large marble hall to Henry's office.

She was halfway across the hall when she heard a strange high-pitched noise. She whirled around to see the floor and ceiling at the end of the corridor covered in hordes of scarabs. All of which were heading in her direction…


	13. Chapter 13

She opened her mouth to scream, and quickly shut it again when she was hit in the face by a wall of sand. Coughing and spluttering, she felt her breath being snatched away by a whirling wind that spun her up into the air.

Her confused mind couldn't take it in at first. A sandstorm? In the British Museum? Huh?

Then she remembered this was one of Imhotep's specialities.

Abruptly, the wind began to die down, and she felt herself being lowered gently to the ground. Imhotep must have got better since he had done this with her mother. Aylisha suddenly realised that Imhotep was solidifying around her, quite literally in fact. She felt his arms encircling her, holding her to his broad chest.

He suddenly held her away from him, concern in his eyes. "Aylisha, are you hurt?"

Attempting to reply meant she only began to choke on the sand again, worrying him more. "Aylisha?" She managed to gasp back a negative.

Relief showed on his face; she was uninjured, if a little bedraggled. He smoothed her hair back from her face and flicked her cheek with a teasing finger.

"It's a good thing you can take care of yourself!" he grinned.

Even after that last harrowing experience, she couldn't help laughing. "Yes, what would you have done without me?" she threw back at him.

Imhotep began laughing now too. He found it typical of her to laugh off what must have been terrifying for her. Her fragile body hid great inner strength and resilience. He had to fight the impulse to kiss her.

Her face changed as she thought of the scarabs. "Do you think they'll be back?" she asked nervously, unconsciously moving closer to him.

"The other has called them to him. He is their master now." He put his hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. "You need not fear. I would never let anything harm you."

She could not help but give him a cynical look. "So you're not going to try to sacrifice me like you did my mother?"

She could have bitten her tongue when she saw the look of pain on his face. He quickly mastered himself however; he was a proud man.

"As I have said, I was not as I am now. I was possessed by the evil of the curse, and willing to sacrifice anything," he gave wry smile, "or anyone, to restore my beloved Anck-su-namun."

He turned to her, and the smile became sad.

"And now I am _truly_ punished for my crimes; Anck-su-namun is returned to me, and yet she is no longer _my _Anck-su-namun."

He turned away from her; his pride wouldn't let her see how much this was killing him inside. Aylisha knew however. She seemed to feel his pain as keenly as if it was her own. She took his arm, trying to make him face her, but she could not move him. She darted round quickly in front of him, giving him no chance to turn. Her eyes forced him to look at her.

"I'm sorry, but you must try to understand. My whole life, all I've heard of you has been what my parents have told me," hating to see him like this, she added with a small smile, "and let's be honest, you didn't make the best of impressions!"

She was glad to see his mouth twitch, and an answering glimmer came into his eyes. However, his sadness was too great to be displaced by this small jest, and it quickly returned.

"Can you not remember me as I was?" he said, an infinity of regret in his voice. His had reached out and stroked her cheek. "You remember nothing of us?"

The way his hand was making her feel she wasn't sure she could remember the alphabet. She remembered nothing exactly, but she had a feeling that her dreams might be…memories?

No! She thought to herself. It was cruel to lead him on with the fanciful imaginings of her youth.

"I remember nothing."

His eyes questioned her, but he said nothing, and he allowed his hand to drop away. "We must find the book." he stated flatly.

He had carefully made his voice impassive: he did not want her to know that her words had caused him more pain in that brief moment than three thousand years of torment ever could.

She opened the door and approached the cabinet. Of course it was still locked. She wished she'd had the forethought to take the keys from Henry before Imhotep had cast his spell. She turned to him.

"The cabinet is locked. We must find the key…" She stopped as Imhotep closed his eyes in concentration and took a deep breath. She turned in time to see the cabinet doors unlock themselves and fly open. Imhotep let out his breath and opened his eyes. Aylisha thought he seemed pleased with his handiwork.

She shot him a grateful glance and looked into the cabinet. There lay the Book of Amun-Ra! Against the background of the dark wood it seemed to emit a radiance of it's own. She picked it up with both hands, and found it lighter than the Book of the Dead. She ran her fingertips wonderingly over the delicate engravings that covered the binding.

"It's so beautiful." She said under her breath.

"Then it is fitting you should have it." said Imhotep meaningfully.

She flushed, not knowing where to look. She wanted to think that her feelings were confused; the problem was she knew they weren't.

"We…we have get back to my parents." she stammered, and quickly hurried past him and out of the door.


	14. Chapter 14

When they finally got back to her office, Aylisha found her parents a little concerned.

"Where in the hell is his office, Hamunaptra?" stormed her father. Aylisha explained what had happened. Her father sat down again quickly. "Christ, scarabs? They nearly killed us the last time!"

Aylisha nodded and turned to Imhotep, who had watched this exchange with interest. "Can you control the scarabs at all?"

He shook his head. "They are controlled by the other, as he is the one possessed completely by the curse. For now I may be able to influence them slightly, but once he has gained his full powers…" he did not complete the sentence; he did not need to. They all knew that if Beni let loose the scarabs in London then pigeons would be the last things on Nelson's mind. And what a lovely image _that_ was.

Suddenly Evie spoke, breaking the silence. "What time is it?"

Aylisha looked at the clock on the wall. It was now five in the morning. She answered her mother, slightly puzzled as to the relevance of the time.

Her mother explained. "Well, the sun's going to be up in a couple of hours or so, isn't it? How are we going to explain to people about an _un_explained solar eclipse, hmm? Egyptians can get on with superstitions and unexplained phenomena, but we're British! Plagues, eclipses, firestorms; they're _just not done_!"

"Tell that to Beni." quipped Rick.

"We're running out of time," said the priest, slightly unnecessarily.

"Well, we'll have to find Beni first." She turned and spoke to the priest in his language. "How can we find the other?"

"He is possessed by evil, but his true nature will influence the evil that controls him."

Aylisha slowly digested this. Imhotep had been in love with Anck-su-namun, so his desire to resurrect her had been his motivation, and his weakness. Therefore perhaps Beni's own obsession would give him away. Now what the hell could it be? She tried to remember what her parents had told her about Beni.

"Wealth!" Aylisha said.

"What?" her father said.

"Money, riches. That was what Beni was obsessed with. Imhotep's obsession was Anck-su-namun, so he went after her. Beni desires wealth, so where there's wealth…"

"…There's Beni!" completed her mother.

"So he's gonna rob a bank?" asked Rick, trying to envisage this situation.

"Not necessarily, as may not know where they are. Has he been here before?"

"No," answered Rick thoughtfully, "but I had, and I told him about it. I might have mentioned…" he tried desperately to recall as his wife and daughter flung suggestions at him.

"Buckingham Palace?"

"Bank of England?"

"Crown Jewels?"

Then he remembered. When he finally told them there was a moment's silence, as both women looked at him open-mouthed. Finally Evie spoke. "All this country has to offer, and the thing that stuck in your mind was…

"…_Harrods_?" her daughter interrupted, still unable to get her head around it.

"Well, I wasn't here very long. It was the first thing I went to see, and then I'm afraid after that things get a bit hazy. I wasn't _exactly_ sober at the time…" he finished lamely, catching his wife's disapproving frown.

"Well, that's where Beni will go then. We should leave now." Then Aylisha had another idea. "In fact, we'd get there a lot more quickly if…" and she glanced questioningly at Imhotep.

Her mother decided to nip that idea in the bud.

"No thank you. I felt sick the last time he spun me around in that sand thing he does, and I'm far too old for it now. We'll take the tube."

"Uh, honey, apart from the fact that it's too early for the tube, I don't think we could take him on the tube like that." He gestured at the priest's tatty robes.

"Then we'll take the back streets, but for heaven sake let's go _now_!"

They flung the books into rucksacks, Imhotep and Rick carrying one each. Rick hadn't been too happy about that.

"We've got a deal, dad." Aylisha had explained.

"Yeah, I've heard that from him before. 'Come with me and I will spare your friends' he said," mimicking the priest's tone and gestures.

"Well if _he_ doesn't kill us, Beni will, so there's no other choice, is there?" flared Aylisha hotly.

She heard her father mutter darkly about killing two birds with one book, but ignored him.

Imhotep held out his hand, offering to walk with her. She was about to accept it but her father intervened, pushing between them. "Oh no you don't, mister," he said looking hostile, "you take too much interest in the women in my life."

Imhotep looked annoyed, and shot a questioning look at Aylisha. She translated her father's words to him; Rick, waiting for a violent reaction, was surprised when Imhotep broke into a wide smile. He spoke to Rick, and left the room.

"What did he say?" asked Rick, very confused.

Aylisha and her mother were both blushing hotly. Evie answered, clearly embarrassed. "He said it is not fair that one man should have _two_ such beautiful women in his life."

"Oh, _did_ he now? We'll soon see about that!" and he sped off after the priest.

"What will he do?" asked Aylisha alarmed.

Her mother smiled tenderly. "Nothing dear, but he'll do it with such _flair_!"


	15. Chapter 15

"What do you keep looking at me like that for?" Aylisha finally asked. She and her mother were a few paces behind the men, and even in the darkness, she could feel her mother's eyes studying her.

"Nothing dear, nothing," said her mother. Then as casually and quietly as she could manufacture, "He's a good kisser, isn't he?"

Aylisha didn't say anything; she didn't have to. The guilty way her head snapped up, her startled eyes meeting her mother's questioning gaze told Evie all she needed to know.

"I thought so," said her mother. "You love him, don't you?"

"No…I don't…I don't know."

"That's a yes then. And I'd also be willing to bet you've always known it, am I right?"

Aylisha hung her head miserably. "It feels that way. I realise I barely know him…I've only met him tonight…but I _do_ know him really. I know he'd never hurt me, it was the curse that made him bad. And when he looks at me, it feels…_right._"

"That's just how I felt with your father, only without the past life thing, of course. What will you do?"

"I told him that I wasn't Anck-su-namun, and that I remembered nothing of us in that life. But I'm not sure that's true. You see, I've always had these dreams…" and she told her mother of her dreams, (omitting the ending of that one dream in particular, obviously) till finally finishing "…so he's always been a part of them, only I'd never even _seen_ him till tonight."

"In this life." added her mother with a small smile.

"But doesn't this sound crazy? I mean, how can it be true?"

"I don't know dear, but it would appear that is indeed the case. I think the best thing you can do is tell him the truth about your dreams."

"Why? What good will that do?"

"Because you love him, and he clearly loves you…"

"Anck-su-namun," interrupted her daughter.

"...Which we have just established is one and the same thing," continued her mother smoothly, " and therefore there should be no secrets between you. Come on!"

She urged Aylisha onwards to the men. When they caught up her mother spoke.

"Rick, I'd like to talk with you alone." She took his arm firmly.

"But…" Began Rick, looking from his wife to Aylisha and Imhotep.

"But me no buts," said his wife brusquely, pushing him ahead of her, "Aylisha is perfectly safe with Imhotep."

Aylisha watched as her mother propelled him quickly forward, leaving her and Imhotep standing alone.

She sneaked a glimpse up at him. He smiled down at her, and then offered her his arm. She took it and they proceeded after her parents. After a minute or two she realised that she was shivering slightly; the temperature had dropped away suddenly. Before she knew what was happening she was wrapped in Imhotep's robe, with his arm clamping her to the side of his body.

"Better?" he asked her.

She nodded in reply; it wasn't the cold giving her goosebumps now.

Her parents were quite some way ahead now, and she decided to seize the opportunity her mother had given her.

"Imhotep?" She paused as he looked down at her, but she forced herself to go on. "I didn't tell you the truth before…about what I remember of us…"

She felt the subtle tightening of his arm around her, while his eyes never left her face.

"All my life," she continued, " I've had dreams about Egypt, but not as it is today. They were about the Egypt of your time. You must understand it's just images: feelings more than anything. Markets, temples, a palace…and you."

"What do you remember of me?" he said, clearly trying to hide the strain in his voice.

"You're in a beautiful room, and you're smiling at me. I was sad before, but I don't know why, but when I see you all that goes away and I feel happy. It's all so disjointed."

Imhotep stared at the ground as she finished, and Aylisha saw the muscles in his jaw work as he did so.

Finally he turned to face her again. He was solemn and a little uneasy. "Tell me truthfully…do you remember the pharaoh, or how he treated you? What of the last time we met, in the palace, before…?" his voice trailed off, but she knew what he was speaking of.

"No, there's nothing."

His eyes closed as he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Good. It is better only one of us should suffer such memories."

He stopped walking and taking her shoulders gently turned her to face him. He tilted up her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye.

"Why have you told me this, Aylisha?" he asked quietly.

Her throat tightened and she could not answer.

He continued, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders. "I must know, what are your feelings for me in _this_ life?" Her heart melted at the desperation in his voice.

"Please, do not lie to me. Have I any hope?"

"Any hope?" she said, and inexplicably she felt tears starting to her eyes. In answer, she reached up her hands and pulled his face down to hers.


	16. Chapter 16

Luckily the streets had been deserted all the way, so Rick and Evie reached a corner opposite Harrods without any difficulty. They turned, looking for Aylisha and Imhotep, but they were nowhere to be seen. They waited a few moments, watching the corner.

"I'm going back," said Rick anxiously.

"I don't think you should, dear," said his wife, catching at his sleeve.

"Why? What's going on that I don't know about?"

His wife patted his arm, trying to placate him. "Rick, Imhotep and Aylisha are in love."

"They're…they're…" Rick's mouth open and shut comically as he tried to comprehend the full meaning of what his wife had just said to him.

"Try not to take it too hard dear. You knew what I always suspected about Aylisha, and without the curse Imhotep is a good man. She could do far worse..."

She realised too late that this was the metaphorical equivalent of driving a petrol tanker into the proverbial burning barn.

"Worse! Worse! _How_?" His voice rose in volume. "She's in love with an undead priest who tried kill her own mother! The only way it could possibly be worse is if she was in love with _Beni_!"

"Well, there you are then." She snatched this promising tinder off the fire by brushing her hand over her husband's face, gently resting her fingertips against his lips.

"Now Rick, you know some people didn't think we would make it…the rugged adventurer and the prudish scholar…"

"You weren't a prude," he said gruffly, taking her hand in his. Then a mischievous glint came into his eye. "A little _repressed_, sure, but I think we fixed that…"

"Rick!" exclaimed his wife, laughing and blushing at the same time.

He grinned at her, but then his face darkened in thought again. Then he looked down at his wife's pleading face, and his heart melted. "Okay, I'll be good," he said, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulder. "I just hope she knows what she's doing."

"Of course not," said his wife, grinning playfully, "she takes after you!"

Imhotep and Aylisha rounded the corner just in time to see Rick giving Evie a very thorough kissing as punishment.

Mock severely, Aylisha said in loud voice "You leave them alone for a couple of minutes…" Rick and Evie jumped apart guiltily. She turned to the priest. "Were they this bad when you knew them?"

"Worse." he grinned.

As his wife translated, Rick looked a little sheepish. "Well, what have you two been doing to take so long?" he said, arching a quizzical eyebrow at them.

Aylisha flushed bright red, trying quickly to think of an excuse. "I was…um, showing Imhotep the sights."

Rick almost couldn't bear to let that one go, but he saw the warning look in Evie's eyes. "Uh, best be getting on then," he said.

They approached the ornate glass doors of the store. One of them was smashed, as though Beni had decided to go in for a bit of supernatural ramraiding. For some reason it turned the blood to ice in their veins, as though some remnant of the evil had been caught on the shattered points of glass.

Rick broke the nervous silence. "Let's get this over with." he said firmly, and stepped through. The others followed and looked around.

The place _looked_ as though a madman had first thrown everything around, then attempted to cover his crime with a thin layer of sand.

Howeverthe sand was just a _by-product _of the madman throwing everything around.

"Why would he mess the place up like this? I thought he wanted wealth, not destruction," asked a puzzled Evie.

Imhotep said something.

"Oh dear!" said Evie, as her daughter translated for her father.

"Imhotep says that Beni may have been practising his powers; if so he may be more dangerous."

"This just gets better _and_ better," replied her father.

They continued further into the building, following the path of destruction, until it suddenly ended, leaving them worried.

"He must have stopped practising. Perhaps he has full control of his powers now," said Evie, voicing the thought that was in each of their minds.

"Maybe not," said Rick, trying to comfort her, "Beni always quit something when it was too hard. The point is, where is he now?"

"I think I know," said Aylisha, and pointed at a sign above their heads. In garish lettering it pointed them to…

"The Egyptian Hall? Oh, Beni, the _wit_!" said Rick sarcastically.

They followed it, and reached the hall. It was in total darkness. Aylisha glanced at Imhotep, and he understood her meaning. His eyes closed his eyes again in concentration, and holding out his arms there was hum of power as the room was flooded in light.

Expensive furniture, statues and other exotic ornaments lay scattered carelessly about the room. At the far end of the room, dripping with jewels and finery sat Beni.

His eyes snapped open when the lights came on, and he smiled evilly at the little party in front of him.

"So, if it isn't my friend Rick and his charming family. Oh, and _you_!" he said pointedly at Imhotep. With a small smile on his lips, the tall priest nodded in acknowledgement, but his eyes remained hard.

"Hello Beni, old buddy. Say, got the hang of that sand routine yet?" needled Rick, and was rewarded by a look of annoyance on Beni's face.

"Very well, thank you!" he snapped. Then he began to smile that cruel smile of his.

Not good, thought Aylisha.

She was right.

"Speaking of friends, Rick old _buddy_," Beni continued, "I've got some _new_ friends I'd like you to meet…"

From the darkness behind Beni, they heard a distant chitter.


	17. Chapter 17

They watched in horror as wave after wave of tiny blue bodies emerged from the blackness behind Beni's makeshift throne. The artificial light glinted attractively off their shiny bodies, almost making it possible to forget how lethal they were.

The keyword here is _almost_.

They frantically looked around for some sort of escape. They could never outrun them, while there was nothing for them to climb onto. It seemed hopeless.

Luckily, Imhotep came to the rescue once more. For the second time that night, Aylisha found herself encased in a shifting desert wind, as she and the others were transported away from the lethal insects.

They were deposited upstairs, still slightly shocked, in what appeared to be the sports department. They sat silently where they landed, or, in the case of Imhotep, solidified, and listened intently for the sound of scarabs. They heard nothing.

Suddenly they heard Beni's voice. "I will find you! There is no escape for you except in death!"

Then they heard the powerful whistling of another sandstorm; and it was coming closer!

They got up to run, but a wall of sand blocked their path. Beni's leering face formed within it for a few moments, then it surged forward. It was almost upon them when Imhotep formed into another storm of his own.

The others watched in silence as the sandstorms merged as one. Within the swirling particles shapes formed then disintegrated again: figures fighting, features contorted with rage and pain.

As suddenly as they had come together, they separated. Imhotep staggered back, falling exhausted to the floor, while Beni was flung back dazed against a wall. Before Beni had time to come to his senses, Rick grabbed the nearest weapon to hand and ran him through with it.

_Beni's_ surprise at being run through by a green and yellow golfing umbrella was only equalled by _Rick's_ surprise that he had just run someone through with a green and yellow golfing umbrella.

With an angry roar, Beni ripped out the umbrella with one hand, while knocking Rick to the floor with the other. As he sprawled on his back, the Book of Amun-Ra fell from his rucksack.

"The book!" gasped Beni, snatching it up with eager fingers. He flipped it open and began to read.

Imhotep, who had struggled to his feet, was again stripped of his immortality as the phantom chariot sped through him.

He turned around to find Beni close behind him. Imhotep just had time to knock the book from Beni's grasp before feeling the cold steel tip of the umbrella pierce his flesh. He dropped to his knees as Beni twisted it back and forth, inflicting the maximum amount of pain and damage before ripping it out.

Beni turned to the still prone figure of Rick. "Now it's your turn to die, _buddy_!" He stopped mid step as he heard a voice behind him. It was Aylisha, and she was speaking the incantation from the Book of Amun-Ra.

"No!" he shouted, spinning around only to confront his own phantom bailiff with repossession orders for his immortality.

He turned around again to watch the chariot vanish, only to see a fist coming up to meet his chin. Reeling from the blow, he fell to the floor. Taking his chance, Rick seized the umbrella from his stunned grasp.

"Goodbye Beni," said Rick, and raising it above his head, plunged the umbrella into Beni's treacherous heart for the second and final time.

Rick then turned to confront the tragic scene behind him.

Aylisha cradled the head of her beloved priest in her lap, while his wife tried hopelessly to staunch the flow of blood.

"Please don't leave me…you can't leave me. I won't let you!" whispered Aylisha in Imhotep's ear, her tears falling onto his face.

"I do not think we have a choice this time, my love," he replied, smiling weakly.

Rick placed a hand on Evie's shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears, and he shook his head at the question in them. He had seen injuries like this in the Legion. It only ever ended one way.

Evie got up and stroked her daughter's hair. "I'm sorry Aylisha. I'm so sorry…" she couldn't continue; her throat was too tight with emotion.

As Evie let Rick lead her from the room, Aylisha knew she and Imhotep had been left to say their final farewells.

"You must read the incantation, or the curse will continue," he whispered.

Aylisha picked up the Book of the Dead with shaking hands, and spoke the spell, watching her tears trickle down the obsidian pages.

He closed his eyes as she finished. "It is done. I am released."

She stroked his cheek, and kissed his cold lips. "I love you," she said.

"And I have always loved you. Remember that!" He reached out and touched her lips. "Do not be sad, my beloved. It is only for a little while. Death is only the beginning." He smiled up at her, and she watched as his hand dropped and his beautiful dark eyes dimmed.

"I will wait, my love," she whispered. Then she abandoned herself to her grief.


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm not a child, and you can't treat me like one!" snapped Aylisha.

"Now look Auntie, the doctor says if you don't have your medicine you won't get better, so I'll just stick it here, okay?" Her grandniece fled before Aylisha came up with a few more suggestions of where she could stick it.

Aylisha sighed. It was ridiculous that a woman of eighty-two was being treated like a six year old. She grabbed the glass angrily and flung back the foul mixture. She felt sleepy rather than better.

She heard her niece Sara talking to her brother downstairs. She had helped to raise them. Jonathan's wife Liz had given birth to a twin boy and girl, and Jonathan's daughter Debbie had continued the tradition.

Sara and Simon looked after her now, returning the favour. Aylisha smiled as she thought of them. What a grumpy old cow she was. They were only trying to help. It was just she hated being so dependent on them. If only Imhotep could see her know.

She saddened at the memory of her dark priest. Nearly sixty years had past and there still wasn't a day she didn't think of him.

Her mind wandered back to that all too brief night she had fallen in love with him. No, she thought, that's not true. I'd loved him for a lifetime, two in fact. It just took me a night to realise it.

Aylisha remembered the aftermath of his death, skipping over the actual event. The pain was till too deep.

She recalled how her parents had taken her away from his lifeless body back to her house. The papers had been awash with the strange events of the night. Museum staff missing, two men murdered in act of robbing Harrods, mysterious bugs found dead in street… the list was almost endless.

Luckily none of what happened had ever been traced back to Aylisha or her parents, so life had in many ways continued as normal. She had flung herself into her work to avoid the pain, and the advent of Jonathan and Liz's children had been another welcome distraction.

She had become a respected authority on Ancient Egypt, not only in Britain but the rest of the world, and had still managed to raise her grandnephew and niece as well. She had never married, and had therefore never had children, but had found raising two lots of other people's children quite enough for one lifetime.

So here she was. Old and tired, with no purpose in life other than to take her medicine and sleep. Huh, she thought, when she got better she'd show them… She was just drifting off to sleep when she felt another presence in the room. So, Sara had sneaked in to check she'd taken her medicine, eh? She'd soon see about that!

She cracked one eye open slightly, and was so surprised by what she saw that both it and its companion popped wide open. There, standing by the bed, was Imhotep! As her jawed dropped, he grinned at her.

"Imhotep?" It was more a question than a statement.

"Yes my love, I have returned to you."

She smiled at him. "It's about time." As he returned her smile, her look saddened "I'm an old woman now; you don't want me." She looked ruefully down at the wizened form beneath the covers.

He smiled again and reached out his hand to her. "You are as beautiful as ever, my princess. Come." She shook her head, almost not daring to believe he could still want her.

Imhotep could not help laughing. "You are _also_ as stubborn as ever." With that he bent down and lifted her out of the bed onto her feet.

Aylisha clutched at the strong arms; it felt as though she had never left them. Then something in the bed caught her eye. She jumped with shock. There, lying peacefully in death, was her body! Her shocked eyes flew to Imhotep's.

"Yes, my love. Perhaps I should have said you have returned to me." She looked down at herself. Wrinkled flesh had regained its youthful vigour, while wasted muscles were firm and strong again.

Imhotep was amazed when she began to cry.

"Beloved, what is the matter?" The shocked concern was audible in his voice as she buried her weeping face in his broad chest, protected in the circle of his arms.

"It's all a dream, isn't it? Even you. None of it's real. When I'll wake up I'll be alone again."

He tilted her chin up, in gesture he had done so often over two lifetimes, smiling tenderly down at her tearstained face.

"No, am more real, and more alive than I have been in the past three-thousand years, because you are with me at last. "

With that he kissed her, long and hungrily. She returned it with the passion of a soul that has known too much of pain and sorrow to let happiness slip away again.

In the warmth of his embrace, she spoke in small voice, almost fearing to ask the question that preyed upon her mind. "Imhotep, will we be together now… for always I mean?"

His arms tightened around her. "Yes, our waiting is at an end; there have been punishments enough. However, the rewards are…" he broke of as he trailed a sensuous finger down her face, causing her to catch her breath, "…more than sufficient." He smiled. "There will be no more pain, and no more suffering; an eternity of love awaits us."

As he lowered his head to hers, she felt him whisper softly against her lips,

"Death is _only_ the beginning…"

_Many thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review - I hope you enjoyed it!_


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